


three words, three syllables

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Sorry Clint), 5+1 Things, Apologies, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Lies, Loki Is Bad At Feelings, M/M, Nightmares, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, SHIELD has questionable morals, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Warning: Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: “I love you” is an easy thing to say, but a difficult thing to mean– and it can be meant in so many different ways.…or, five times Tony and Loki say that they love each other, and one time they don’t need to say the words at all.





	three words, three syllables

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an accidental wolf in sheep’s clothing. It was originally going to be 100% fluff, but it’s… not. Oops, my hand slipped?

•— ——————•

The first time Loki told Tony Stark that he loved him, it was a lie.

Oh, he cared for the man– perhaps more than he should, as he knew that ties would need to be brutally cut sooner rather than later. They had lasted longer than expected already– had even evolved past hurried trysts and oaths of ‘this is the last time, Reindeer Games’ to slow kisses and promises of ‘until next time, Stark.’ But Loki was not the sort of person who knew how to love, and the words were a calculated move, whispered breathily against sweaty skin in the middle of the night to hide the falsity in his eyes, a purposeful manipulation designed to further Loki’s plans.

Loki had put up with enough nights of tangled limbs and mornings of clinginess to recognise that Stark was starved of affection, though the man would never admit to it. His desire would never cloud his judgement, however, not after everything the mortal had been through. And therein lay the problem. Tony Stark was clever man, and Loki knew that it would take more work to worm under his skin than it would any other mortal. It was one of the reasons why Loki had found him interesting enough to try and decipher in the first place.

Stark wouldn’t ever trust Loki. He may sleep beside Loki, may allow him into his workshop and pet his beloved robots, but he refused to speak about the things that mattered. The light in his chest was a topic that could never be broached no matter how careful Loki was with his words, and Stark always made sure that they never mentioned the Avengers.

No, Stark was still a long way from trusting him. But you don’t need to trust someone to love them, and in that respect, Loki thought, a hollow confession of love would be more believable than a show of false trust.

He had hoped that the confession would bring them closer, would result in Stark giving away some information on Thor or on SHIELD that could help him keep out of their clutches and remain free to do as he so wished on this miserable planet, far from the reach of anyone capable of doing actual harm. He hadn’t entirely expected that Stark would accept it– not with the way that he believed himself unworthy of affection when it was given by his friends. He had always accepted what Loki offered, though, which Loki supposed made some degree of sense. He was a monster, a creature that even Stark could consider below him, and therefore someone Stark could imagine capable of caring for a person as broken as he. 

Still, Stark had looked at Loki then with an odd expression, like he could comprehend but not quite believe what Loki had told him.

“Oh,” Stark had said, and Loki had to fight to keep the corners of his lips from turning up, knowing Stark would able to feel it. They really were so very alike. “You… Loki.”

Loki hummed in the back of his throat, shifting his body so that he was propped up on his elbows over Stark’s chest, his loose hair brushing the mortal’s skin as he allowed his lips to pull over his teeth in a smirk.

“Yes,” he said. As long as he could make it appear that his amusement was due to Stark’s stutter, the mortal would be unlikely to suspect a thing. “That is I.”

Stark huffed and pushed at Loki’s shoulder, but the movement was half-hearted. His expression was hurt, but with an edge that suggested he had been expecting whatever had harmed him. There was a touch of concern– or sadness, maybe, with a distance to it that Loki was all too used to seeing. Usually, it meant that Stark was thinking about the fact that Loki was his enemy, and for a moment, Loki worried that Stark was going to question him. Loki didn’t know if the lie could hold up to an extended act– he _was_ the best of liars, but he knew that true affection was the one thing he’d always had difficulty replicating. But for his family, he had never truly felt affection for another person– and when the little that he had known had been revealed as hollow and false, even his ability to exclude a friendly fondness was whittled down to sarcastic quips and tight smiles. Every attempt at warmth resulted in something cynical and cold, detectable by even the most novice of adversaries. Stark would see straight through it.

The worry was unfounded however, for not a moment later the hurt cleared. Something fiery and determined washed through Stark’s gaze as he buried a hand in Loki’s hair to drag him down for a bruising kiss, and Loki wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

He didn’t ponder, though, for Stark’s lips were pressed against his own, hands tugging at his hair and urging Loki to reciprocate in kind. Loki would never admit aloud how easily a kiss from Stark could cause his control to become undone, for the truth was quite unflattering– he fell into Stark’s urgent touch almost immediately, curling his fingers in the mortal’s shirt and parting his lips in invitation, brutally sucking on the tongue that eagerly responded. They weren’t gentle– they bit and scratched and drew blood, but it was exciting and arousing and it led to everything that Loki wanted it to.

It would seem that the manipulation hadn’t quite worked in the manner that Loki had hoped, but it was a satisfactory result all the same. There was still time, though. For while he couldn’t feign more than the sliver of attachment that he did feel for the mortal in his arms, he could certainly continue the way that he had been with lingering touches and a seductive embrace. Loki was willing to enjoy it for as long as it would last– and hopefully, at the very least, his ploy had lengthened that time considerably.

•—— —————•

Tony had entered his arrangement with the god of mischief with his eyes wide open. He knew that it was just sex, that they were both just letting off a little steam and perhaps using the opportunity to glean a bit of information on the side. Maybe in the beginning he’d arrogantly hoped that Loki might cool off in the field if he was fucking Tony every other week, but pretty soon the fact that didn’t happen didn’t matter in the slightest. They were both having fun, and really, that's all it was supposed to be.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love.

Oh, he'd fought it in the beginning, of course, but it wasn't something Tony was capable of preventing. It had happened slowly, a languid progression alongside the way that their kisses grew slower and the sex became less of a fight to the death and more of an amorous dance. Almost without noticing Tony shifted from gritting his teeth when Loki appeared in the penthouse to flashing an honest smile. Loki began staying longer, and they started to talk a bit more. Sometimes, there were days when they didn’t have sex at all, but sat comfortably on the couch, working or reading or arguing about movies in perfect harmony. And then one night, he was watching Loki sleep with his nose a little scrunched and a speck of drool on his chin, and Tony had thought– _god, I love you,_ and he hadn’t been surprised in the slightest.

Loki wasn’t even an easy person to love– at least, not at first. He was hard around the edges, spiteful and vicious and prone to bouts of violence that left the city burning in his wake. But he never turned that violence toward Tony, not unless he was hurling magic at him on the battlefield– and even then, more and more often the spells thrown his way were harmless. It was what he had hoped for in the beginning, but Tony didn’t see it as a benefit any more.

He just saw Loki.

Loki, who always left the sheets rumpled and never made the bed. Who drooled in his sleep and always left long black hairs on the floor of the shower, who spoke in the middle of movies to complain about their inaccuracies but rolled his eyes when Tony did the same. He would eat all the food out of Tony’s fridge but somehow always manage to brew coffee that was _just_ right, and despite the fact that he didn’t seem that keen on non-sexual touching he always let Tony cuddle him at night. Loki could be callous but when he cared, he cared deeply, and Tony loved him for all of it. He loved him for everything that Loki was– the annoying habits, the biting insults, the sharp wit and unmatched intelligence. Without any of it, he wouldn’t be Loki.

It wasn’t that Tony had become dependent– Loki was just someone who Tony just didn’t _want_ to have to do without. So when Loki had told Tony he loved him, Tony had just… rolled with it. Oh, he knew it wasn’t true, of course– knew that Loki’s feelings hadn’t kept in step with Tony’s own. It was painful and probably more than a little unhealthy, but if it meant that Tony could hold on to Loki a little longer, then he was more than happy to let Loki think he’d got one over Tony’s head.

Things… didn’t really change afterwards. Loki didn’t say it again, and Tony continued to make sure that he kept Avengers stuff away from Loki’s attempts at information fishing. He loved Loki, but he wasn’t going to let him destroy the team. Maybe if there were an indication of Loki’s feelings changing as well, Tony might have grown to trust him some more– but as it were, he knew it was a pipe dream.

A line had been drawn in the sand, and Tony was sure he wouldn’t be the first one to cross it. But then one night, Tony woke up to a pained whimper and a sharp cry, and he knew that he couldn’t stay away.

Loki had always been pale but in the low lighting he looked _sickly_ , his hands twisting in the sweat-drenched sheets and his face twisting in terror. Tony had acted almost on instinct, reaching out and drawing Loki into his arms, trying to pull him gently out of the nightmare.

When Loki did wake, Tony was expecting him to pull away– but instead, the god remained where he was, trembling in Tony’s arms as he fought to steady his breathing.

“You’re all right,” Tony soothed, stroking Loki’s damp hair and holding him close. “I’ve got you. I love you. You’re safe.”

Loki shuddered, his whole body shaking harder than before and curling tighter into Tony’s chest. Tony had meant it to be a comfort to Loki, something to ground him and keep him steady. Let him know that there was someone who cared about him, maybe. But instead, when Loki tilted up his chin to catch Tony’s gaze, his green eyes were wide and uncertain, more vulnerable than Tony had ever seen them.

Tony opened his mouth, about to– he wasn’t sure, actually, apologise or something, but despite appearing to be totally rattled Loki found his words first.

“Do you really mean that?”

And Tony, still unsure of how to respond, merely offered Loki a smile.

•——— ————•

_I love you._

The sentence rang through Loki’s mind, short and sharp and confusing. Stark had just… _said_ it, simple and casual and with no intention to use it as a means to an end.

Sure, Loki had tried to consider Stark’s words from all angles. Maybe he had been thinking along the same lines as Loki had been, but Loki found the thought difficult to equate to everything he had learned about the mortal so far. Because Stark was most definitely not the sort of person to take such words lightly– that was why Loki had chosen to say them in the first place. But nor was he cruel enough to use them the way that Loki had.

So maybe the simplest answer truly was correct. Perhaps Stark did now truly believe himself in love with Loki, and perhaps he believed his love to be reciprocated. Perhaps Loki’s earlier manipulation had worked just as he had hoped it would.

Rather than victory, the thought left a rather bitter taste on the tip of Loki’s tongue.

It was a strange feeling, this… guilt. He wasn’t accustomed to carrying such a burden around. In his youth, he rarely found himself in a position to feel guilty– his pranks were only ever inflicted upon those who had already wronged him in some manner, and therefore Loki didn’t care about how he had affected them. But with Stark, there was something different, something heavy sitting on his chest and scratching at his mind every moment spent living with the lie.

He decided to bury the feeling, to put it away where he would not be forced to think on it. And it worked, for a while– as he headed out to Vanaheim that morning to practice wielding his seiðr, Loki found that he felt just as normal, and the worrying feeling held no effect at all. But as soon as he returned to Avengers Tower, he could no longer pretend that nothing had changed. Stark greeted him with a smile that was far too honest to be anything other than what it was, like he was truly happy to see him. They did little more than sit on the couch and eat pizza, yet Loki felt drawn to the mortal– when Stark shuffled closer to lean against Loki’s side, Loki held his breath, something in his chest aching with the desire to– not to turn the moment toward sex, but certainly to make it more intimate nonetheless.

He’d had to leave that night to rest his head on a pillow far away from Tony Stark, attempting to clear his mind and reshuffle his priorities. He hadn’t quite managed, but he found himself unable to stay away from the penthouse of Avengers Tower for too long regardless. He couldn’t avoid Stark forever– he enjoyed his company far too much, so he was forced to endure. As time passed it grew easier to live with the sickening weight in his gut, but it never vanished.

And then _it_ happened again. Loki was roused from his night terrors by the soft brush of fingers through his hair, and the safety and warmth of another body pressed against his own. And when Tony said that he loved him, the words flowed just as smoothly as they had that first time.

It was there, in Tony’s arms, that Loki realised why he had carried that heavy burden around for so long. The feeling wasn’t only for the fact that he had manipulated someone who clearly, truly felt affection for him. He was aching with guilt because he felt just the same, and because he wanted Anthony to know the truth– the truth which had now been sullied by a lie.

He wanted to avoid it. He wanted nothing more than to bury his head in the sand and ignore what had happened, but he was astute enough to recognise that the only way he was going to be able to avoid the thing that had crept between them would be to leave and never return, to go back to being enemies who met only on the battlefield with intent to do harm and to capture.

But that, more than anything else, made Loki twinge in pain. He had not cut his ties quick enough, and now it was far too late.

Tony was working on something in his workshop– a piece of Iron Man, probably, as the paint on the surface of the metal was a bright scarlet. Loki approached slowly, not wanting to startle the man into making a mistake, yet he also didn’t want to have to wait. He didn’t want to live with the guilt for another moment, and so he cleared his throat to get the inventor’s attention.

When Tony looked up, his smile was bright and open like Loki was exactly what he had needed in that moment– it just made everything _worse_.

“Tony,” Loki greeted, his voice thick.

“Hey,” he said, putting down the tool in his hands and turning his chair properly so that he was angled toward Loki rather than the bench, giving the god his full attention. “What’s up, Lokes?”

“I… need to speak with you about something.” Loki felt more nervous than he had since attacking Midgard with the aim of defeat. He kept his hands behind his back to hide the tremors that shook them, and he kept his chin tilted into the air, presenting an image of confidence as the royal tutors had trained him to do from a young age.

“Okay,” said Tony, rubbing his oily hands on his jeans and looking up at Loki with ease. “Shoot.”

“I owe you an apology,” Loki said.

“Oh?” Tony’s smile still did not dissipate, but a spark of mischief entered his eyes. Usually, Loki would revel in it and rise to any challenge offered, but in that moment– he just couldn’t. “Did you break something?”

 _Yes_ , Loki thought. _All of the friendship that I have managed to earn thus far. Any chance that remains of gaining your trust._

But he didn’t give it voice.

“I did not,” he said, truthful in regard to how the question had been meant. Yet the tension in his words finally broke Tony’s smile, and his expression fell into a frown. Loki licked his lips, betraying his own nervousness. Suddenly, what he had come to do seemed far too difficult a task. But perhaps he could find a balance that he could live with. “You have become very dear to me, Tony,” he tried.

“Okay,” Tony repeated, though this time he spoke the word far slower and with far more wariness than the last. He looked hopeful, maybe, but concerned. “That doesn’t seem like something that you need to apologise for, though.”

“No,” Loki agreed. “But it is… true.” He looked away, ashamed by the reminder of everything that hadn’t been.

“Loki, whatever it is,” Tony said worriedly, “we’ll work through it, okay? We’ve made it this far– if it’s the Avengers, if you need me to do something– we’ll work through it.”

Loki shuddered, his eyes falling closed. He had been wrong. Simply admitting his growing affection wasn’t enough. He needed more than that. Tony deserved more than that.

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurted out. He opened his eyes to catch Tony’s gaze, knowing that eye contact was important. He had not made many apologies during his long life, and those that he had he hadn’t properly meant– but this time, he desperately wanted to make things right.

“Loki,” Tony said again, his brow furrowed in a proper frown, now. “What’s wrong?”

He knew he just needed to do it, get it out there. He didn’t want to watch Tony’s no doubt caring expression turn into something darker, he didn’t want to bring the closeness they had found to an end– but he had delayed enough already.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said again, meaning it with all that he was. “When I said that I loved you– at the time, it was a lie. And I _am_ sorry.”

Loki squeezed his eyes shut once more, preparing himself for violence. That had always been the consequence for an exposed lie in the past, and he saw no reason why it should be different, now. Tony had faced betrayal from those close to him before, and they had always– _always_ , been met with fiery retribution.

But the violence never came, and when Loki opened his eyes in confusion he was met with the sight of a sad smile.

“I know,” Tony said, appearing to have waited for Loki’s gaze to return to him. “I know that you lied. But I was happy to keep what we had, for a little while.”

“You’re not… angry?” Loki asked.

“You apologised, didn’t you?” Tony said, and it seemed that it was his turn to glance away. “‘At the time,’ you said. Maybe that means there’s some hope for me, after all.”

“Some hope…” Loki echoed, trailing off at the end and tilting his head as he considered the man before him. Tony didn’t look up from his workbench, though his eyes were not focused on his work. “Do you mean—“

“Did you lie just now?” Tony asked. His hand was clenching and unclenching at his side– but not in anger. Loki recognised the gesture as a nervous tick, and it afforded him some measure of reassurance.

“When?”

“When you said that I’m ‘dear’ to you.” Tony finally glanced back up, raising a brow as he did so. “You said it was the truth. Was it?”

“Yes,” Loki said, firm and honest.

“All right, then.” The coiled tension in Tony’s shoulders seemed to relax from him in a wave of relief.

“All right?” Loki asked carefully. Hopefully.

“Yeah.” Tony looked up to Loki then, and although he still was not smiling, Loki somehow felt like a smile wasn’t far away. “Yeah, we’re all right, Lokes.”

Loki exhaled in relief, his breath rattling through his chest. He felt… lighter, perhaps. Not quite happy, but as if he were maybe headed there.

“Just… please,” Tony said, his words a little vulnerable and his eyes a little soft. “Please don’t lie about something like that again.”

In that moment, Loki knew that there was only one thing to be done.

He took the couple of steps necessary to cross the distance between them and cupped Tony’s face between his hands before leaning down in a swift movement and pressing their lips together. He kept the kiss chaste at first, waiting, and he let out a small, relieved gasp when Tony began to kiss him back.

It was the sweetest kiss they had shared to date, with no hint of bite or of any desperate desire. They simply kissed, their lips caressing and sliding over each other. Loki’s hands shifted to gently brush through Tony’s hair, and Tony’s hands slid around Loki’s waist, both of them holding but not pressing, not asking for any more than what was already given.

Loki pulled back after a few short moments, staying close but making sure that he was far enough for his next words to be serious. Tony’s eyes were wide, bright, and expectant. He seemed to already know what was coming, and he looked ready to accept it– and that, more than anything else, warmed Loki’s heart and gave him the hope that he hadn’t managed to break anything at all.

So—

“I love you, Anthony,” Loki told him.

And this time, it was a promise.

•———— ———•

Tony hadn’t been sure whether or not to believe Loki when the god had said that he would be spending the morning meeting up with an old friend, but the emergency call from Cap letting him know that the Avengers were assembling in the Museum of Natural History just struck the final nail in the coffin. Of course, it _could_ have been someone else, but Tony didn’t have high hopes. The tight set of Loki’s lips on the word ‘friend’ had been what had made Tony think Loki wasn’t being entirely truthful in the first place, and the intel from civilian witnesses of ‘two magic users, both throwing green light at each other’ was pretty damning.

The situation was, of course, a bit more complicated than that, if only because Loki and Amora weren’t the only two Asgardians in the museum. The Avengers had fought Amora before, they really should have guessed that Skurge would be there too– but to their embarrassment, they were caught a little off guard, and Steve was thrown right through the Barosaurus skeleton in the middle of the Rotunda. At least Loki appeared to have caught Amora in the entrance to the museum– no doubt the damage would be a lot worse if they were fighting further in.

The two magic users were pretty focused on each other but Skurge came right for the Avengers, so they all focused their attention on him. Tony was happy enough with that since it meant that Loki was no longer outnumbered by his opponents, but it also meant that Amora could direct all _her_ attention in the one direction.

He didn’t have time to worry, though.

The Avengers were all rather caged by the fact that they were in the museum– Tony couldn’t fly very high, Thor couldn’t use his lightning, and Hulk had not joined the party at all. Skurge, meanwhile, had no such compunctions, and was quite happy to throw them all around and leave deep gouges in the Panama Canal mural with his axe.

They attempted to corner the guy but he swiped at Clint and threw him into Thor, and then Natasha shot at Skurge but the bullets had no affect other than to anger him. Tony’s repulsors worked but he was all too aware of the press nightmare they were about to face, and he really didn’t want to damage any of the remaining dinosaurs.

Loki, meanwhile, looked like he was holding his own, but Amora had some kind of glowing artefact in her hand that appeared to be granting her more power, and he was beginning to tire. Tony was debating whether or not he would be able to get away with abandoning his team to Skurge so he could shoot Amora’s pretty blonde head when the doors to the museum flew open once more, and a group of people in navy blue Kevlar streamed into the Rotunda.

SHIELD had arrived. That was good– they could take over trying to fight the axe murderer and the Avengers could turn their attention to the magic users. Steve went to the agents immediately to begin to coordinate, and Tony fired a barrage of repulsors at Skurge, enough to daze him for a moment and give Tony time to devise how best to help Loki get out of this one.

In the moment’s respite Tony watched as one of the agents threw a gun first to Clint, then to Natasha. He wondered why– they both had perfectly designed weapons, manufactured specifically for them by Tony himself.

Then Clint shot at Skurge and the Asgardian howled, his axe falling from his hand as his shoulder began to bloom with blood. But that was– Tony had seen bullets bounce off Asgardians like they were nothing but rubber. It wasn’t impossible that a bullet could do some damage, but unless they were made of—

Tony froze as JARVIS threw up some stats.

Fucking adamantium. SHIELD were using _adamantium bullets_ —

And Natasha had her gun aimed right at Loki.

He was already moving even as his mind began the calculations– he was closer to Loki than he was to Natasha, but too far to be able to move him out of the way in time.

There was only one thing to be done, and the shrill bang of the gun reached his ears in the same moment that he felt like he’d been hit with one hell of a punch to the gut.

It didn’t hurt at first. It just felt… cold. But then the pain hit him all at once, the cold replaced with an excruciating, stabbing heat that was worse than anything he’d suffered before but somehow felt like it was happening to someone else. He groaned and pressed his hands tighter against his stomach, not remembering when he had put them there. He heard Loki yell and Amora laugh a parting quip, but he couldn’t focus on any one thing. JARVIS was saying something and his HUD was flashing red, and it was all rather annoying so Tony pulled off his helmet and let it fall to the ground, noting as he did so that his gauntlets were covered in red as well.

Tony was dizzy. The roof was moving, or maybe he was, and then Tony was somewhat aware of Loki hovering over him, his hands tearing at the armour while a stream of curses at both SHIELD and Tony ran from his tongue.

“Lo—“ Tony tried, but his words cut off as a gurgling cough forced its way up his throat and he tasted something metallic.

“Shh,” Loki hushed, his eyes a bright, bright green as he caught Tony’s gaze. “It’s all right, you’re going to be all right. Just stay still for a moment—“

“Get away from him, Loki,” someone shouted, and Loki’s face twisted into a snarl.

The god threw out one of his hands, probably sending out a blast of magic at the Avengers, or maybe the SHIELD agents, but Tony didn’t really care. He was busy trying to focus on Loki’s frantic motions, on the concentration and absolute terror that bled through every movement.

Had Loki’s eyes always been so very green?

“No, no, no,” Loki was muttering, and Tony couldn’t properly see what the god was doing, but he did notice that Loki’s hand was wet with something red when he brought it up to cup Tony’s cheek. Tony didn’t want to think about what that meant. “Don’t leave me, Anthony,” Loki ordered, though his usually pristine tone was shattered by a broken tremble at the end of the sentence. “Please. I love you.”

 _I know_ , Tony wanted to say. _I believe you_.

But his eyelids were made of lead and the world felt just a little bit spongey, and Tony slipped into the awaiting caress of unconsciousness with Loki’s desperate plea still ringing in his ears.

•————— ——•

Loki sat in his cell, quiet and docile, his unseeing gaze stuck on the blood that still stained his hands.

He wanted to pace, to shout, to demand that whoever was watching the security feed bring him news of his Anthony. He knew that the mortals would be treating him despite his apparent betrayal of the Avengers. Midgardians didn’t tend to allow people to die from battle wounds they had the ability to fix, not when there was a chance they might still be on the same side– and especially not when there was possible information to be gleaned. They would have him in a bed, possibly cuffed to prevent escape but most certainly receiving the best care that SHIELD had to offer.

If nothing else, Loki supposed, Captain Rogers would make sure of it.

The thought was not as comforting as it should have been.

Loki had tried to fix what he could with his seiðr, but Anthony had still been unconscious when Thor had forced Loki away and SHIELD had bundled him, armour and all, into a helicopter. Too disorientated by worry to even think about resisting, Loki had been cuffed and shoved into a van, carted off to one of SHIELD’s bases. He knew it wasn’t the helicarrier he had been held on before, but other than that he did not know where they had taken him– but nor did he care.

He was in a glass box again, though as his wrists were bound by Asgardian steel engraved with binding runes, Loki could no longer use his seiðr. He could access it, use it on himself, but he could not push it out of the confines of his body. He couldn’t even use it to clean Anthony’s dried blood from his hands. Escape would be difficult, and it would take time– and time was something that Loki wasn’t sure that Anthony had.

SHIELD would not respond to any shouts or demands, and he knew that voicing them would lead to nothing but amusement and derision from his captors. No, his best chance was to simply wait, and hope that whoever came to him would let something slip.

He did not have to wait long.

“What did you do to Tony, you bastard?” Barton asked as he stalked into the holding room. He paused some meters from the glass, his teeth bared and his eyes sharp. Barton’s words were surprising, but Loki quickly adjusted. If Barton thought he had done something to Anthony– well, that was a mistake that Loki could put to good use.

So he made a show of getting to his feet and smirking, putting on his most gruelling act yet as he pretended not to care. “Is he dead?” Loki drawled.

“No,” Barton spat. “No thanks to you.”

A weight lifted from Loki’s shoulders and his head felt light, but he forced his smirk to grow and his eyes to narrow. “Shame,” he said. “Although, I suppose that it is more fun this way.”

Barton, though, didn’t respond as Loki expected.

“What are you playing at?” Barton asked harshly.

“I should think that is obvious,” Loki goaded.

“No,” Barton snapped. He took a step closer to the thick, Hulk-proof glass, and pointed an accusing finger in the direction of Loki’s forehead. “Don’t forget that you were in my head,” he snarled. “Don’t forget that I _know_ you. I know that you’re lying, I just don’t know what about.”

Loki reared backward, surprised and frustrated at being found out. He knew Barton was smart, that he was incredibly skilled at reading people, but he also knew his own skills. He was perfectly capable of tricking someone of Barton’s ability– which meant that his façade was not as iron-clad as he thought. Something must have slipped.

“Careful, Barton,” he spat, causing the archer to smirk in victory. “I haven’t forgotten that I was in your head at all. Maybe I’ll get in there again, and this time, maybe you won’t come out of it quite so healthy as the last. Maybe this time I’ll tear you apart from the inside out.”

Barton’s smirk disappeared as quickly as it had formed. “You’re in a cage,” he said. “Thor’s going to take you back to Asgard. Do you think they’ll lock you up again? _Maybe this time_ Odin will decide not to risk another escape and simply remove your ugly head from your stupid ass neck.”

“You think this cage will hold me?” Loki asked, raising a brow. “Let me tell you something, _hawk_. No cage has ever been able to hold me for long, and those who put me there never lived long enough to regret it. Do you not remember Agent Coulson?”

“Fuck you,” Barton snapped. “Phil was a good man!”

“And so is Tony Stark,” Loki said. “Yet your own teammate shot him in the gut.”

“She didn’t hit anything vital,” Barton snapped. “The doctors don’t know how, because the trajectory– but his organs are fine. He’s going to be _fine_ – and anyway, you bastard, Natasha was aiming at _you_.”

Loki had known that already, of course, but it still hurt to hear. Norns, did it _hurt_. Anthony had thrown himself in front of a bullet that he must have known was capable of penetrating his armour– because if he hadn’t, there was no reason for him to think that it would harm Loki. He had risked his life, to save _Loki._

Doing his best to push the thought away, Loki tried to focus. Barton had confirmed what Loki had hoped– despite his panic and his lack of skill in the area of healing, Loki had managed to reverse the damage done to Anthony’s insides. He was going to be all right.

The knowledge spurred Loki on, and he curled his lip as he stepped closer to the glass. “I know that she was,” he said. “She will not live to regret that, either.”

“You’re not getting out,” Barton said, his voice almost smug, now. “You’re going to Asgard, and Loki? You’ll find that you’re the one who’s reached his expiry date.”

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted Loki's not-yet started response, and then a new voice joined the conversation. 

“The _hell_ he is.”

Loki would have recognised that voice in a heartbeat, and his eyes darted to the door, widening as he caught sight of Anthony storming inside. He was free of his armour, wearing black SHIELD-issued cargo pants and grey SHIELD T-shirt. As he moved, Loki caught sight of bandages under the shirt, but the injury hardly seemed to worry him, his steps smooth and sure as he strolled to stand near Loki’s cell.

“Tony!” Rogers complained, running in after him. “You’re not supposed to be out of your bed yet—“

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Anthony snapped. “The bullet only went through muscle, and even then it’s just a minor tear. I’m _fine._ ”

“You’re in pain, you’re not thinking clearly—“

“On the contrary,” Tony said. “I’m thinking more clearly than I have for a while. You’re going to let Loki go.”

“No.”

The four men turned to the new voice in the room. Loki hadn’t even noticed the Director of SHIELD enter, but there he was, wearing his long black coat and an impressive scowl, accompanied by Agent Hill.

“Fury,” Anthony said tensely. “I’m not going to back down.”

“He’s a criminal,” Barton snapped. “Why are you defending him?”

“I love him,” Anthony snarled, the words a proclamation as damning as if he had outright declared himself an enemy of SHIELD. “And I am not going to let you send him to his death.”

Hill had already drawn her gun, and Fury’s expression promised a nasty counter move. Loki could tell that things were about to grow heated and dangerous for anyone on the other side of the glass, and Anthony was outnumbered four to one. He needed to balance those odds.

With his seiðr locked inside his body by the Asgardian cuffs, there was only one thing that Loki could think of to do. He closed his eyes and focused on the tips of his fingers, concentrating on the feel of how they were wrapped in an Asgardian skin. He had always been a gifted shapeshifter, more so than he had ever known. He had spent most of his life in one body, yet he found, with the right motivation the illusion was easy to push away. By the time Loki opened his eyes, his fingers were a deep, Jötunn blue, and a web of frost was beginning to crawl its way across the glass.

“I knew he’d fucked with your brain,” Barton said, his weapon aimed at Anthony. “I just didn’t realise that it was quite this bad.”

“Stark,” Fury said, “if you do not stand down, you’ll be going in there with him.”

Anthony smirked. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

They had stripped him of his armour to access his injuries but that didn’t mean that Anthony remained unarmed. The fingers of his left hand went to the watch by his right, tapping in the sequence and pulling his newly designed glove gauntlet over his palm. In one smooth movement Anthony raised his hand and fired the repulsor, and the already compromised glass shattered.

Loki was moving immediately, charging forward and heading straight for the agent with his gun still trained on Anthony’s heart. He couldn’t use his seiðr to fight but that didn’t mean he was helpless– he ran at Barton and swung with both hands, catching the archer on the side of his head. The chains affected his aim and he hit the man with his fist, knocking him unconscious.

A shame, really. If he had managed to connect with the cuff, he no doubt would have shattered Barton’s skull.

Loki considered the man on the ground for a half moment. It would be so _easy._ In one simple move he could kill one of the Avengers, permanently wipe out one of the thorns in his side. It was an opportunity that he would be stupid not to take.

Then again, despite the current state of affairs, Loki was sure that Anthony still held fondness for the Avengers, and wouldn’t want to see them suffer too much. Perhaps Barton’s continued existence was in Loki’s best interest. It would be a bitter pill to swallow, but one that Loki would be willing to take all the same– so long as it meant that he was able to keep what trust he had gained from Anthony thus far.

Anthony had engaged Rogers, trying to keep out of his reach. It was clear that both Avengers were doing their best not to injure, though Rogers was only a moment and a fast-paced hit from knocking Anthony down. Hill had her gun trained on them, her expression stony as she tried to find an opening, but the two were too entwined in their fight to offer her a clear shot. Fury was watching from the sidelines with his own gun in hand, poised like a snake. He was clearly the larger threat, and Loki was about to head for him next when they were interrupted.

Thor broke up the fight, blasting the door off its hinges with his unnecessarily dramatic entrance and holding Mjölnir to Loki’s temple. Most of the mortals in the room paused because they believed the fight to be won– only Anthony froze in concern.

“Oh, please,” Loki scoffed, trying to alleviate some of Anthony’s worry. “You’re not going to kill me, Thor. Stop this useless threat.”

He expected Thor to respond with frustration. He didn’t expect Thor to let go.

“Thor,” Director Fury warned. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Thor ignored him, keeping his unreadable gaze on Loki. It was odd– usually, Loki could tell what Thor was thinking simply from the set of his brow, but for once, Loki found that he wasn’t sure what was running through that blonde head. Thankfully, the suspense did not last long.

“You healed him,” Thor said, and Loki had to fight to keep his expression blank. “I have seen enough battle wounds in my life. I know that the weapon punctured his stomach, I know what that looks like, but the doctors say that his organs are fine.”

“You’re right,” said Anthony, jumping on the opportunity and glaring straight at Fury. “You heard that, right? Loki healed me, he’s on our side.”

“I am on _your_ side,” Loki corrected. “SHIELD is nothing to me.”

Anthony glared at Loki like he had said something wrong. And maybe it had been a strategically unsound thing to say – extremely so, in fact – but Loki knew that he did not want any more untruths to stand between them. He didn’t want Anthony to believe that Loki was a friend to SHIELD, not when the opposite remained true. After all, just a moment ago the only thing stopping Loki from killing Barton had been the knowledge that Anthony would be opposed. Loki would never be able to side with SHIELD, but he didn’t ever want to hurt Anthony, either, not any more– and never again.

Still, Fury responded rather negatively, swearing and demanding that Loki be taken back into custody. But Captain Rogers moved to calm him.

“No matter what he’s done, he should have a trial,” the Captain argued.

“He’s not human, the UDHR doesn’t apply,” Fury said.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Anthony asked, looking to Steve pleadingly. “Fury, come on!”

“He should go back to Asgard,” said Agent Hill, her gun still aimed between Loki’s eyes, no doubt full of the bullets that had almost sent Anthony to his grave.

“No, we should deal with him,” Fury countered. “Asgard has lost him before, it’s our turn. Thor will let us keep him.” Fury turned his hard expression on the thunderer. “Won’t you, Thor?” His words were not unnoticed, but for now, at least, they remained unanswered.

Thor’s eyes assessed Loki curiously, his lips pressed in a tight line. “He is important to you?”

“More than that,” Loki replied, and the confession was an incredibly easy thing.

“Then I suppose my path is clear,” Thor said. He passed his gaze over Fury, who was standing tense as a bowstring– and Barton, who remained curled on the ground, unconscious but still breathing– before finally resting on Anthony.

“Keep him safe, Stark,” Thor said. Then, in one mighty swing, he brought Mjölnir down on Loki’s wrists and broke the cuffs to pieces.

Loki was sure that ‘safe’ equally meant ‘out of trouble’, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be irritated by it. For once, Thor had acted with Loki’s best interests in mind despite possible risk to his own team, and Loki found that was something that he couldn’t simply discount.

“Thank you, brother,” he said, causing Thor’s eyes to grow wide. Then, before anyone could reach them, Loki took Tony’s hand and gathered his seiðr, pulling them both back toward their home, leaving the Avengers and Fury to shout angrily in their wake.

•—————— —•

The moment they stepped into the safety of their penthouse living room, Tony pulled Loki over to the couch and gently pushed him down onto it before placing his arms around Loki’s shoulders and curling into his lap. Loki relaxed immediately, wrapping his arms around Tony and pulling him as close as he could without jostling the almost-healed injury. Tony sighed as he felt Loki kiss his hair, and pressed his lips to Loki’s neck in response. He felt warm and safe, and he was fairly sure that he wasn’t going to move for at least a week. The day had been draining, and Tony was exhausted to the bone.

He knew that there would be consequences for what they had done. He knew that SHIELD would be after them, now, that he would have one hell of a job convincing the Avengers that he hadn’t actually turned traitor. Loki was still the same, and he wasn’t going to turn into a force for good any time soon. Then again… Loki had the chance to kill Clint, today, but he hadn’t. Maybe that meant something. Shaking the thought away, Tony relaxed into Loki’s arms, allowing himself to simply enjoy the moment without worry of what was to come.

He’d been shot, after all. He’d almost died. He deserved a bit of a break.

Loki, though, seemed a few steps past simply being exhausted. His whole body was trembling, his breathing a little faster than normal, and his fingers were pressing into Tony’s back with what could only be labelled as desperation.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, pulling away from Loki only far enough so that he could examine his expression.

Loki grimaced, and tried to duck down to press his face back to Tony’s hair.

“Hey,” Tony said softly, frowning as he leaned back though he kept one of his hands on Loki’s cheek in a soft, comforting caress. “Are you sure that you’re all right?”

With a soft sigh, Loki finally met Tony’s gaze and shook his head once in response to the question. “You picked me,” he said, the awe in his voice palpable. “Even after I—“

“After you what?” Tony asked, raising a brow and making sure that he kept the amusement off his face, knowing Loki well enough to recognise that it wouldn’t help. “After you saved my life? After you’ve been kinder and, yes, more _honest_ with me than pretty much anyone else in my life?”

“Honest?” Loki said, his eyes going wide with shock. “How can you—“

“Yes, you lied to me, and in a pretty shitty way, too,” Tony said. He ignored Loki’s flinch and powered on. “But you– we both knew when we started fucking that we were both on opposing sides. By the time you said that, I was already halfway there myself and I just thought– I’d take what I could get, you know?” Tony shrugged.

Loki leaned in to kiss him, and Tony knew that it was at least partially to hide his reaction. But he kissed back anyway, because kissing Loki had long since become one of his favourite things– and he knew that even if it was avoidance, the kiss was not a lie.

When they broke apart and Loki finally met Tony’s gaze, he said– “I still regret what I did.”

“I know,” Tony said softly. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive you if you didn’t. But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

Loki shook his head. “I was scared today,” he admitted. “When you fell. I thought…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony promised. “Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me.”

Loki smiled– not with a bright grin, but a small upturn to his lips that seemed far more truthful than if he had. “Good,” he said. “I would hate to have lost my reputation by saving an Avenger only for you to disappear on me now.”

Chuckling, Tony pulled Loki in close and pressed his lips to Loki’s smile, knowing that despite the jest– Loki was being entirely serious. He didn’t want Tony to leave, and, well. Tony was fine with that. He was more than happy to remain in Loki’s arms for as long as Loki was content to keep him there.

The kiss said more than they could have with any words, the emotion bleeding through with every caress of lips and fingers and tongues. They spoke with touches, saying _I love you_ with more feeling than perhaps either of them ever had before.

A manipulation, a comfort, a promise, a plea, a proclamation– those words could mean so many different things, but to Tony, that was okay. Words had betrayed them in the past, but he and Loki had been through enough together that they knew, now, how to tell the difference, and their connection went deeper than dependence on three simple syllables. They were able to trust each other with their hearts, and that, perhaps, was what made their silent understanding far sweeter and full of far more meaning than any three words could ever hope to capture.

But just because they didn’t _need_ to say them didn’t mean that the words would remain unsaid.

“I love you, Loki,” Tony said.

And when Loki smiled and replied with– “I love you, too,” Tony knew that he would never grow tired of hearing it.


End file.
